


Breathe Me In, Taste My Words, Let Me Blow Your Mind

by latinaeinstein (oneforyourfire)



Category: VIXX
Genre: M/M, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-24
Updated: 2019-01-24
Packaged: 2019-10-15 13:33:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17529677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oneforyourfire/pseuds/latinaeinstein
Summary: “You only ever tell me you love me when your cock is in my mouth,” Hakyeon notes





	Breathe Me In, Taste My Words, Let Me Blow Your Mind

**Author's Note:**

> 2015 fic

Early Sunday morning, as Taekwoon murmurs a soft complaint about the temperamental coffee pot, tugs listlessly at his plaid pajama bottoms, Hakyeon hooks his chin over Taekwoon's shoulder, trills out a lazy greeting">

  
Early Sunday morning, as Taekwoon murmurs a soft complaint about the temperamental coffee pot, tugs listlessly at his plaid pajama bottoms, Hakyeon hooks his chin over Taekwoon's shoulder, trills out a lazy greeting. A "Good morning, my darling Leo" murmured right against the column of Taekwoon’s throat, where he’s extra sensitive, Hakyeon knows, humming out a laugh as Taekwoon squirms.

Hakyeon takes that as license to press even closer, arms loose but heavy and possessive around his waist. The skin of Hakyeon’s bare forearm brushes against the ribbed cotton of Taekwoon’s tank top, dragging purposefully over Taekwoon’s hipbone. Taekwoon squirms again, Hakyeon presses even closer—again.

This is a familiar, not unwelcome dance.

The exquisitely overwhelming heat of Hakyeon's breath against the nape of his neck, the featherlight pressure of his lips as they drag in a slow graze, the lazy drawl of his "My darling, darling Taekwoonie." The shiver-inducing "I love you" that accompanies the slide of his nimble fingers up Taekwoon's tense stomach.

Hakyeon likes to touch him most on early Sunday—Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday—mornings, when they're alone in the kitchen, before the others awaken. Likes to pretend they are in an alternate universe where this is open and more concrete and real. Likes to get Taekwoon flustered and hot and on edge before the others shuffle sleepily out of their rooms, too, interrupting vaguely filthy whispers and achingly teasing touches.

This is all a familiar, not unwelcome routine.

But today Hakyeon continues to touch for far too long, enough time for Taekwoon's body to begin stirring in interest. Taekwoon’s head lolls back to crash against Hakyeon's shoulder, and he can feel the rumble of Hakyeon's laugh against his back. Hakyeon whispers his fingertips beneath the waistband of Taekwoon’s pants. "I love you," he repeats. “My darling Taekwoonie.” And Taekwoon hums in acknowledgement, groans in blooming desire.

The hot, hot way he presses the words to Taekwoon’s neck makes him shudder helplessly.

Hakyeon teases at the hem of Taekwoon’s boxers—briefly, deliciously—before dragging over his thigh instead, his blunt nails catching on the sensitive skin. And fuck, Taekwon loves this, him, every every time they—

“You only ever tell me you love me when your cock is in my mouth,” Hakyeon notes, fingers skating back up up up, provoking a shudder before the words catch up with him. Taekwoon stiffens. Hakyeon’s fingers splay wide, caressing his inner thigh, soothing the barb.

“I—”

“Or my ass,” he allows. “Or my cock in your ass,” he adds after a beat, fingers skating once more. “When you're about to get off," he amends, teasing along his balls. "That's the only time you ever say it.”

Taekwoon swallows around a moan, gulping past it as he tries to form a protest. Even though he's worried that if he opens his mouth, it will only be to stutter, stumble over the right words. Taekwoon's never been very good with words, and he doesn't want to—

Hakyeon's nose drags along the rumpled mess of his shirt, hot lips dragging more purposefully "What do I gotta do if I want you to say you love me right now?"

"I—"

"Touch you, right? Because you only love the orgasms I give you," Hakyeon grumbles now.

He drags his thumb over the clothed crown of Taekwoon's cock, and Taekwoon chokes on a moan, hands scrambling to wrap tight around Hakyeon's biceps, from behind. The angle is awkward, the gesture no less desperate.

"Gonna tell me you love me soon?" he laughs. "Because you know nobody can make you come quite like I can, right?"

And it's absent, this observation. There's no bite there. There is rarely ever bite there—when Hakyeon speaks to him—but there _is_ a question. It's casual, joking, light but still. Taekwoon, maybe he should—

But Hakyeon, for his part, seems unperturbed by Taekwoon's silence, and he’s cupping him lazily, more fully in the next moment, whispering _Is this what an I love you costs_. His words are enticingly hot and wet against Taekwoon's throat. His hand is slipping beneath his boxers in the next instant, devastating skin on skin. It just takes two strokes, and Taekwoon is almost fully hard. He bites his lip to smother a moan.

"Love me now?" he breathes. Taekwoon turns shaikly in his arms, body tipping sharply, arms falling back as Hakyeon tightens his grip. Taekwoon meets Hakyeon’s eyes before his own flutter shut. Hakyeon is much too good at this.

"They still count," he manages finally, bucking helplessly into the exquisite pressure, biting his lip even harder afterwards to keep more sounds from spilling out. It's morning, risky, and the others will be coming out soon enough.

"I know they still count." And Hakyeon is laughing now, stroking him off still. Taekwoon forces his eyes open, groaning helplessly at the heat he finds in Hakyeon’s own.

"Just—just because I don't—oh—just because—"

They are face to face, but Taekwoon's head crashes against Hakyeon's shoulder for the second time that morning, and he moans into his warm skin at the mounting pleasure, perfect friction. Hakyeon always seems to know just how to touch him right.

“But why don’t you just say it back?” Hakyeon teases, fingers teasing, too. His free hand wraps around Taekwoon’s ass to urge him even closer then it slides up up up to tangle in Taekwoon's hair, force his head back. There is a glimmer in Hakyeon's crinkled eyes, mischief in the curl of his lips.

And even then when he's being explicit, goading him into admitting it, even then—Taekwoon swallows hard, blinks rapidly, unable. He can't, and Hakyeon's smile only widens. In understanding, casual dismissal. It even reaches his eyes. His perfect, perfect hand quickens, and Taekwoon can hardly breathe, barely manage a weak “I—”

And at an utter loss, Taekwoon kisses him, and Hakyeon moans into it, gives in so easily. His mouth is perfectly warm and wet in the early morning, as he indulges him just briefly before pulling away to breathe labored and shaky against Taekwon’s own parted mouth.

“I love you,” Hakyeon repeats, his voice laden with meaning, with love—real, real love. The words graze the seam of Taekwoon’s trembling mouth. They taste sweet, heavy, but he can't—even then, he can't quite—

Taekwoon hasn't been this terrified since they first started teasing at this looming, overbearing, beautiful thing between the two of them. Taekwoon doesn't know how to put it to words, and Hakyeon is looking at him expectantly now, as teasing as his voice is. And the pleasure—the glide of Hakyeon’s warm, perfect palm against his cock—lends an extra heaviness, an extra element of the surreal to this entire thing.

They are suspended on the edge of something awful and beautiful and—

Somebody is rounding the island, Wonshik probably, going by the slippered shuffling. He ruins—maybe actually saves—everything.

Hakyeon pulls his fingers free, smirks around a smile as he pops a sole finger into his mouth, sucking it obscenely as Wonshik murmurs out a raspy greeting, and Taekwoon feels his face heat, an oppressive warmth burning all the way to his ears.

Falsely casual, affectionately cruel, he drapes his arms across Taekwoon's waist, for all the world as if he wasn't just stroking his cock and demanding more just seconds before.

"Don't look at me like that. I know you love me, my darling Leo," he trills now, loud enough for Wonshik to squint maliciously at him. “My lovely Leo.” In his special _Leo voice_. A pause to drag a grumbling Wonshik into his arms, too. “My darling Wonshikkie, too. You love me, too, right?”

He’s using his ingratiatingly obnoxious leader voice then, the voice oft-captured on camera, high-pitched and lilting, the voice of _I'm proud of you_ s and _Good job_ s and teasingly lingering buttpats, hugs, kisses. And he's nuzzling against Wonshik now, ignoring the younger's protests

 

Hakyeon doesn't press the issue, and maybe it really is just a passing observation. But it's not in Taekwoon's nature to let these sort of things go.

He ponders it over the next couple of days, breaking it apart into tiny, tiny pieces, examining it from multiple angles. In the shower, the practice room, over dinner when he catches Hakyeon’s teasing smirk. He thinks about it in his bed most of all, the phantom stain of Hakyeon’s own easy, easy declarations, kisses, touches haunting as he reflects and reflects and reflects.

On this, their relationship, on his own contribution to this conflict, on his feelings, on Hakyeon’s expectations.

And he thinks that maybe it’s almost like the insecurity of when they'd first stumbled upon this thing, the hazy parameters sometimes bleeding into practice rooms and onto camera monitors and into long long van rides, an oppressively demanding thing but silenced for the sake of them both. How easy it was to forget that it was real when by all outward signs, it wasn’t— isn’t. And maybe—just as Taekwoon has in the past—maybe Hakyeon needs this as a sort of confirmation. His precious, beloved Hakyeon, _his_ Hakyeon, he's asking him to confirm it.

And Taekwoon feels helpless, rendered speechless like this, stuck somewhere between the profanity and sacredness of words.

 

Hakyeon kisses him that Tuesday, intent now, allowed to be intent now that the others have been excused to wander the Gangnam streets, drink, eat, laugh too much. Hakyeon and Taekwoon were invited to join, too, but Hakyeon's eyes had crinkled in mischief and Jaehwan had winked conspiratorially. And now here he is with a warm, warm Hakyeon, pressing him to the wall and nosing down his neck.

And it's in these rare private moments, when everything else fades away and it's only Hakyeon's skin, breath, moans, want, it's easiest then. Will be easier then.

The words always come easiest when Hakyeon is invading all of his senses, drowning the insecurities, the residual fear. In those moments, Taekwoon is most able to give him words, offering them readily—I love you, Hakyeon, baby, yes, oh—the only words in his vocabulary. The only things that matter.

But the thought of confessing, putting it to words, it reminds him, maybe of the thrill of performance, the rush of blood in his ears, equal parts dread and adrenaline skittering through his veins. That sweet spot between fear and aching desire. It's the pleasure-thrill of roller coaster right before it drops, the vast, awful stifling silence before a returned "I love you," Taekwoon's this time. Taekwoon is in debt.

Hakyeon is a safe place, he knows. Hakyeon is receptive and ready and taken with him, too. Hakyeon isn't even—the words are sharp on his tongue, heavy in his throat. But wanted, Hakyeon wants to hear them.

And Taekwoon needs to establish it before he gets lost in it, loses sight of his goal. He's already dazed, already desperate.

"I love you," he says, pulling away from Hakyeon's heated kiss, meeting his eyes so that it counts. Taekwoon is _shaking_.

Hakyeon smiles into the next kiss, lips curling so beautifully and perfectly against his.

Taekwoon's heart swells with affection, so fast, so hard, that it aches. "I love you a lot," he continues, threading his fingers through the hair at the base of Hakyeon's skull, cradling as he kisses with fervor now, with feeling. And Hakyeon is giving back in turn, anticipating every move and matching it, really truly as if they were meant to do this only with each other. Made perfect for one another. "I love you so much," he manages, breathless and overheated in between smacks of their lips.

"Keep going," Hakyeon urges, low, low, low, but when Taekwoon pulls away enough to rest their foreheads together, breathing labored, hands sliding down to tug Hakyeon tighter, Hakyeon is fucking _beaming_ , eyes twinkling at the confession.

"I love you," Taekwoon repeats, emboldened. "I love—love your eyes...and your smile...and your heart...and your laugh...and your fingers...and your mouth." The last word is strained, a groan, Taekwoon chasing the heat of Hakyeon's mouth, coaxing him into another kiss.

Hakyeon hums, smirks into it, indulging briefly. As Taekwoon loses himself once more—always, always—in the plush perfection of Hakyeon's mouth. "Anything else?" he presses, tone teasing, light. Even though he's breathing hard, too, affected, too, hard—against Taekwoon's thigh—too.

"I love—" Taekwoon rasps. "I love touching you, holding you, making you come."

"There's my Taekwoonie," Hakyeon smiles.

And he's kissing him before Taekwoon has a chance to respond, peeling off his shirt, tugging down his pants and boxers. His warm hands skate over Taekwoon's skin, dancing down his spine, coming back around to graze over his navel, up his ribs, before teasing at Taekwoon's nipples. He plumbs his mouth over and over again, all the while. Taekwoon grinds against Hakyeon's thigh, heedless of the dragging almost painful friction as his cock catches on wrinkled cotton. But lightheaded, overheated, so, so turned on, Taekwoon works on divesting Hakyeon of his clothes, too, eager to get at more perfect, responsive skin, too.

Taekwoon groans when their bare cocks drag against each other. He licks his palm, grips them both, shuddering at the smooth glide, kissing Hakyeon deeply, sloppily all the while. Almost, maybe content to do this until they both come, but Hakyeon disagrees, disengaging with a lingering bite to Taekwoon's bottom, a playful _Let's get to the good part_.

Naked, he falls back into the mattress in a sort of elegant disarray. Distressingly desperate gorgeous need as he strokes himself languidly while Taekwoon watches.

"Love me enough to fuck me?" he jokes, voice husky, neck tilted back. He watches him through heavy, heavy eyelashes, equal parts challenge and want.

And Taekwoon looms over him in the next second, naked, too, eager, too, he coaxes Hakyeon's gaze towards his own, reaches down to stroke Hakyeon, too.

Hakyeon bites his lip hard, nearly white, but a breathy moan manages to slip through. He's _beautiful_ , and Taekwoon is momentarily dazzled by the way Hakyeon's skin flushes, blooms with sweat. And really, Taekwoon wishes he were better at words sometimes, able to tell him. Not just in these moments. He'll work on telling him in more than just these moments.

"Fuck me," Hakyeon urges, fucking into his tight grip, his free hand tangling in Taekwoon's hair. " _Fuck_ me, Taekwoonie."He's using his Leo voice, but a different Leo voice, exclusive only to these private instances, low and possessive and deep with desire.

"I love you," he repeats, and Hakyeon's eyelashes flutter as he strokes his cheek, brushes reverently at his furrowed eyebrow. He’s so _beautiful_.

"You're about to get off," Hakyeon chides softly, arching into the tender caress nonetheless. "We've talked about how it's only—mostly when your cock—"

Taekwoon shakes his head, and Hakyeon's eyebrows pinch in confusion. Taekwoon smooths them, shifts above him so that Taekwoon's nose is nuzzling against Hakyeon’s cheek, his lips dragging over his sharp jawline.

"I want to eat you out," Taekwoon whispers into his skin, and Hakyeon doesn't attempt to hide his shudder. When Taekwoon pulls away, tries to gauge his reaction, the heated teasing gleam has been replaced with something slightly on edge, tempered fire. "Turn over."

Hakyeon, after a beat, a deliciously heavy swallow, does, on his hands and knees for him. And Taekwoon groans as he takes in the sight—tan, perfect skin, long, lean muscle, the most devastating grace in the arch of Hakyeon's spine—before he's falling over him, dropping kisses—more _I love you_ 's—down his spine, until he's on his haunches behind him, grip tight around Hakyeon's waist.

_I love you_ , he spells—licks— against the well of his ass, provoking a heavy tremor. _I love you_ , he presses with his fingertips into Hakyeon's trembling thighs, gliding down, down, fingers splaying to hold Hakyeon open.

"I love you," he breathes—aloud—along Hakyeon’s rim, puckered lips purposefully dragging over his puckered entrance, and Hakyeon shudders helplessly. "Gonna prove it," he continues, sparing a slow, succulent lick, grazing, laving. "Gonna make you come."

"Love me that much?" Hakyeon laughs breathlessly, in the next instance, recovering enough to tease, though his voice is so so shaky, muffled slightly by the pillow near his mouth. "Love me enough to—"

His voice breaks off into a wrecked, wet moan as Taekwoon licks more deliberately, directly at his rim, easing his tongue inside.

And Hakyeon, always overwhelming loud, he’s even louder now, demanding pleasure and taking it. He grinds his ass back against Taekwoon's face. Taekwoon moans as Hakyeon completely inundates his senses, saturates every pore.

"I love you," he tries to communicate. "I love you and I want to make you feel good and I don’t ever want you to doubt for that please" with his body now that his mouth is otherwise occupied—pushing, pushing, pushing until he's licking smoothly along the fluttering warmth of Hakyeon's open, responsive body. He's intent on leaving Hakyeon boneless, leaving Hakyeon helpless, leaving Hakyeon doubtless that this is anything less than real, real love for him, too.

Hakyeon, for his part, seems to understand or at the very least relish in Taekwoon’s attempt, moaning and whining and bucking and panting. A chorus of beautifully breathless "I love you"s over and over again, interspersed occasionally with a reverent curse, Taekwoon's name.

Taekwoon eases a finger in slowly, after groping for lube, slicking his fingers. He introduces another as Hakyeon's spine arches with an imploring _please_ , a third when Hakyeon breathes his name in a broken whisper.

He pulls back to admire the view on his haunches now, and Hakyeon moans devastatingly loud, upper body collapsing forward in a whine as Taekwoon increases his pace, curls his fingers.

But Hakyeon, recovering quickly, begging already for more, spreads his knees to gain leverage and writhes back onto the stretch, with a reckless abandoned, his grooved warmth gripping at Taekwoon desperately, inviting him further inside. Taekwoon spreads his fingers, licking between them, around them, in the breaths between deliberate thrusts, and Hakyeon—if possible—is even louder then, even more demanding then.

“Love you,” Hakyeon chants mindlessly loud, voice ringing. “I love you I love you I love you I love—”

He tilts his ass up, gropes a hand down to touch himself, pace faltering, moans increasing in volume and pitch as Taekwoon scrapes blunt fingernails down his tense, taut thighs.

Taekwoon drags him back by the hips, urges to grind back on his face again, take in that way again. And he's pushing past the resistance to fuck his tongue smoothly inside again, his fingers sinking in alongside his tongue again.Eyes closed to relish in it, Taekwoon loses himself fully in it, the clenching warmth, thick thick musk, the gorgeous desperation of his response. Buried deep like this, overwhelmed like this, he can still hear the ruin of Hakyeon's moans, the filthy tugs of his fist as he strokes himself off.

Taekwoon is so so so hard, fucking aching for some sort of relief, but focused still on Hakyeon. He ruts against the bare sheets, scraping, seeking, settling. As he fucks Hakyeon with his fingers, his tongue, and it's worth it for the way that Hakyeon's entire body trembles, the way he moans and moans and moans.

"Close," he says at one point, and Taekwoon spreads his fingers, pressing hard as Hakyeon's entire body seizes. He groans, trembles as Hakyeon comes with a long, long whine of Taekwoon's name, his body squeezing helplessly around his fingers, fluttering helplessly around his tongue as he shivers and sags.

He's beautiful like this, sinful and sated, and Taekwoon loves him so, so much.

He turns over, graceful even in the afterglow, arms demanding around Taekwoon's shoulders. Hakyeon shifts, grimaces as he slides against his own come. Taekwoon laughs, and Hakyeon crinkles his nose but tugs him closer nonetheless, wraps a fist around him, nonetheless.

And Hakyeon's orgasm-lazy pace, his orgasm-lazy kiss against Taekwoon's temple, they provoke a helpless shudder, a helpless confession— _I love you_ —breathier now, unthinking now, a reverent mantra as Hakyeon’s long, lovely fingers wrap fully around him, tug and tug and tug until Taekwoon is writhing and whimpering and wrecked. Coming, coming, too, the pleasure staggering after holding off for so, so long.

"Because I love you, too," Hakyeon murmurs softly—voice so warm and heavy with love— as Taekwoon's vision floods with white, sensation flooding his consciousness. "I love you, my darling Taekwoonie."


End file.
